Practice of Law in New York City. "What do you want," he said, "fame or money?" I expressed a desire for a judicious com bination of the two; in fact I supposed one a concomitant of the other. "No, there are lawyers who have made single fees of a million without going into court, and there are attorneys who appear every day in court and in the public prints— but not in the banks. "Don't go into a large office either. If you come in here you will probably never get to see me about your work and you will cer tainly not argue any of my cases or even motions- People want me; they don't pay to have someone else. Besides everyone starts in this office as a student and grows to be a clerk." (The difference between these stages of advancement is a salary.) "What I wish to know is, can a man work his way up into the firm?" "Well, a man once got to be managing clerk here in three months—and then quit with nervous prostration. But I don't mean to answer your question that way, Alderson," he shouted. "Alderson," he said when his young partner appeared, "this is Mr. Mur ray, who wishes to run things as soon as possible in our office. I called ¡or you as the best answer to his question whether a man can work into a firm if he deserves to get there." In looking into so many offices I was fol lowing the usual student method of making a choice. In some, division of labor is so planned that you may be given one sort of work and kept at that. A classmate of mine spent his summer vacation with the Fed eral Reporters, abstracting every case in them relating to Admiralty; this, because his employer hoped to . find an authority, al though none appeared in the indices. Of course, then, there is no fixity of terra for office positions. If a man sees himself sink ing into a rut, he pulls out. The annual flood of students has not swept
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away from some few lawyers their interest and consideration. Three men, all at the top of their profession, I met with no other in troduction than my card. Two of them of fered me openings, and the third, entirely of his own volition, tried to help me with the men at his club. But altogether it was a disheartening search. There is little profes sional spirit or pride in New York; the place is too big for that. A student will generally get advice, but no encouragement; and pay, after the plunge, if any at all, such as East side office boys or stenographers would sneer at. In many offices earning with some fre quency fees of one hundred thousand dollars, the struggling younger brother will get no pay for half a year, and then from five to ten dollars a week. To put on a brief the name of the man who drew it, is quixotic. In one of the most important cases ever decided in New York, the clerk whose suggestion moved the Appellate Di vision, received not a tittle of recognition or praise for his brilliant thought. The whole practice of the law is warped, too, by the brutal mass of business. The successful lawyer detests trial work, partly because affairs of great moment cannot wait two years to get into court, and then be bandied about for possibly ten more; partly also, because there is no telling which way a judge or jury will move. They have cer tain fixed ideas and habits of thought that one must accept, and which no argument can overcome. Frequently a judge's opinion is written for him by the successful litigant; otherwise, like as not, by the judge's secre tary. Juries disagree outrageously where corporations are defendants; clerks of courts and sheriffs often own real estate that threetimes their salary could not have bought. No one has -time or inclination to disbar a "shyster," and the practice of the law, losing the semblance of a profession, is being dis torted into the appearance of a very sordid and money-worshipping business.
